


Taking Any Hit

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Non-Stop Gifts/AUs [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe, College AU, Daemon-verse, Depression, M/M, Non-Stop - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone else’s daemons have settled. Elle won’t. It’s like she’s waiting for something. </p><p>John doesn’t know what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Any Hit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Non-Stop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626945) by [writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle). 



> A Non-Stop Hamilton AU 
> 
> (You should read Non-Stop to get full context of story, though can be somewhat understood without).

Elle’s been with John all his life. She’d been a mouse at first. Small and unseen. Hiding with him under his bed as his parents argued downstairs. He curled in the dark, knees tucked to his chest. Small and tiny just like her. “I wish we could just disappear,” he whispered. Knowing that _he_ couldn’t. And Elle...she couldn’t disappear. Couldn’t vanish. But she _could_ get smaller and smaller. Pressing against his throat. Whispering _I’m here._

His mother finds him under the bed. She tells him it’s okay to come out. But there’s a bruise around her wrist. And he doesn’t think she’s telling her the truth. He’s scared.

 _“No tengas miedo, mijo,”_ she whispers. Holding her hands out for him. He goes to her.

Elle shifts into a lemur. Hugs him around his neck while mama hugs him around his waist. _“Estara bien...estara bien.”_

 

* * *

 

John’s sick. He hugs Elle to his body. Shivering and coughing as a fever grips him. He doesn’t feel good. Doesn’t think he’s ever going to feel good again. He sneezes. Elle changes into sloth. Sprawls out and lets John hug her tight. He coughs. Coughs again. The nurse sends him a sad look. “Mama will be here soon,” Elle tells him.

Mama doesn’t come.

Mama died in a car crash. Dust staining her clothes. John’s too sick to attend the funeral. No one wants to see him sobbing like a baby anyway.

 

* * *

 

“It’ll only be for a few weeks,” Father says. His vulture, Samson, is sitting on the counter of the studio apartment John's been given. Great wings folded back. Samson doesn’t like Elle. Looks at Elle with a kind of mild distrust. Elle’s been a turtle for months now. John thinks she’ll settle like that.

She’s a box turtle at the moment. Feet, head, and tail all tucked into place. John hugs her to his body. Doesn’t meet his father’s gaze. Just nods mutely. Lips pressed tightly together. “Once the girls get comfortable,” Father continues. Eyeing the bland walls. The unfurnished floor. Samson makes a rumbling sound. John flinches.

Remembers what it’d felt like when Samson had last took hold of Elle. Shook her and threw her. Telling her to behave. John’s trying to behave. He trying so hard. Didn’t even say anything when his father announced that he was getting remarried. That John had a sister. Almost the same age. That they didn't want him at hime. That he just makes things worse. “...Don’t get into any trouble,” Father finishes. Trailing into the sentence like he'd meant to say something more, but didn't have the heart for it.   

The door opens. Father and Samson leaves. The door shuts.

John sits down on the floor. He’s cold. And alone. And he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what to say. He thinks he should do something, though. Anything.

Elle turns into a slug. Inches her way across the floor to him.

Tears well in his eyes.

That’s about right.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t a few weeks.

It’s not even a few months.

Elle keeps rotating through turtles, even when they’re on their fourth year alone.

 

* * *

 

Everyone else’s daemons have settled. Elle won’t. It’s like she’s waiting for something.

John doesn’t know what.

 

* * *

 

John meets Alexander Hamilton. He’s a child. Immature and excitable. He races forward. Throws his arms around John’s neck. “We’re going to be friends,” he states. Then he looks at Elle. “My name is Alexander Hamilton, and this is Grace!” The labrador steps right up. Tail wagging.

Elle is tucked into her shell. Feet and head pulled in as far as she can go. John’s frozen stiff with shock. He has no idea what to say. What to do. He’s scared. Uncertain. He opens his mouth. Wishes something will come out. “I’m Elle,” his daemon greets. Slowly emerging.

John feels something within him starting to shift and take form. The turtle in his hands changes. A bird. A sparrow. Alex’s eyes widen. His lips spread. John flinches. Expecting the teasing. The awful words that always come when someone realizes that Elle hasn’t settled yet. The intention is always painful. It always hurts.

Alex grins. “That’s awesome.”

Elle chirps out a bright song. Flaps her wings. Flies around. John can’t really understand what’s going on. But he nods his head, and makes his first friend.

 

* * *

 

Elle changes subtly. Slowly. Goes back and forth. Turtle. Bird. Turtle. Bird. John’s fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. The school asks him if everything’s all right. Is his homelife okay? They’re concerned about him. Elle should have settled years ago. She hasn’t. She keeps fluctuating. Not deciding. Not sure.

Someone tells him that turtles are common daemons for the abused. The uncertain. The sheltered. Those afraid of going outside.

Alex tells him turtles are the longest living, the most durable, the most dependable.

Elle turns into a tortoise. She turns into a finch.

She doesn’t know what she wants.

 

* * *

 

He kisses Alex on a cold day in November. With his hands trailing through Grace’s fur. With his eyes closed. His heart pounding in his chest. Elle is a cockatoo. Feathers displayed proudly. _This is who I am._

She settles the same day his father takes him by the throat. Punches him in the face until he can’t see. Throws him into the street— in the way of traffic. John thinks this must be how his mother felt when she died. A soft body in the way of five tons of steel. Alex pulls him out of the way. Gets him to the other side.

Grace is barking and growling. Hair stands on the back of her neck. Elle is circling overhead. Flapping her wings anxiously. Screeching. Samson goes to take her down. Grace jumps up. Gets in the way. Stands tall and firm, teeth bared.

Father calls Samson off. “I never want to see you again.” Leaves while John’s still shaking on the sidewalk. There are tears streaking down his face.

Alex kisses him. _“Fuck him,”_ he curses. John nods. The only response he can give.

 

* * *

 

The best days are the days when John sits on floor of his apartment. Grace’s head in his lap. Alex curled at his side. Elle laying with her wings out. Alex’s fingers carefully settling them into position. Fluffing her out. Getting her nice and ready. Beautiful. Elle likes fluffing up in Alex’s lap.

And it feels...like magic. Like there’s nothing else in the world that could make him at peace. Like Alex is the only one that matters. _Please. Please don’t ever leave me._

Alex turns his head. Bites a little at John’s hip. And he’ll do anything. Anything at all. Be whatever Alex needs.

“Let’s fight,” Alex suggests.

Okay.

 

* * *

 

John applies to all the same schools as Alex. Waits until Alex says which one he’s attending before he shyly admits he’s going as well. (The full ride to University of California at San Diego is quietly rejected. He doesn’t tell Alex about that. That’s a secret just for him and Elle.

“Shhhh….” he whispers to her when she argues with him. “I don’t want him to know.”

“But it’s the best Marine Biology school in the country…” Elle argues. Reminds him of the ocean. The facility. John doesn’t care. He tells her as much. She’s unimpressed.

He can’t lie to her.

 

* * *

 

They go to school together. So many new people. So many daemons. So many experiences.

John thinks this year could be the start of something great.

John’s wrong.

 

* * *

 

Alex starts using.

“It feels so good,” Alex moans as he mouths at John’s lips. Body rocking against John’s hips. Hands scratching at John’s skins. Grace is pacing. Too much energy. Elle flutters above her head. Circling. Not knowing what to do. “C’mon...c’mon fuck me. C’mon.”

“Alex—you’re-you’re high.” Alex shoves his hand down John’s pants. “Stop, stop it, come on. Alex I’m not. I’m not—not while you’re high.”

Alex stumbles back. Stares at him. Eyes so wide, but so strange, that John doesn’t know what to do. Elle flies to John’s shoulder. Sits there. Wings against his head. “Jesus,” John whispers. “What’d you even take?”

And the grin on Alex’s face fades. Replaced by a vicious snarl. “Just because our mothers are dead, doesn’t mean you get to pretend to be mine.” John flinches.

Elle squawks, “That’s not fair!” Alex slaps a hand out. Striking Elle from John’s shoulder. The pain is unimaginable. It sends an axe through John’s body. Splits him head to toe. His eyes water. His heart wrenches. Lungs seize. Alex has his head between his hands. Drags him forward. Presses his lips against John’s so roughly that John’s seeing stars.

“If you’re not going to fuck me or choke me, I’ll find someone else who will.” The words barely make sense. Don’t register. Elle’s stumbling along the floor. Grace growls. Elle hides herself in the corner. Under John’s bed.

The agony hasn’t stopped. He’s going to be sick. “Get out.”

Alex frowns. Blinks. John wrenches away. Breathing hard.

_“Get the fuck out of my dorm!”_

“Fine,” Alex sneers. Pushes John roughly. He hits the ground. Pain still coursing through his core. Alex and Grace are gone before he manages to catch his breath.

John’s still shaking hours later. Even with Elle pressed up against his body. Feathers splayed wide and fearful.

 

* * *

 

They don’t invite Alex up again.

Elle asks him about California.

He wishes she wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

They don’t touch each other’s daemons anymore. Elle flies away whenever Alex gets too close. When Grace leans against John’s legs, he doesn't lean in. Shies away. Doesn't pet her. Until eventually, Grace stops. Alex doesn’t seem to notice. Too focused on his own needs.

He talks about them. Rambels. John listens. Lonely and upset. “We should have sex,” Alex sighs. Dragging John back to his room.

Elle tells him he’s stupid afterwards. John knows he’s stupid. He always has been.

He looks at Elle and he laughs. She really is perfect of him. “Just fly away,” he tells her the next time Alex comes near.

The pain of their separation is nothing compared to the pain of Alex’s strike. John’d much rather have Elle flying the skies in peace than anywhere near Alex while he was high. It’s better that way.

Safer.

She hates it as much as he does. But it doesn’t matter. Never did. She’s not a turtle. Trapped in her house. Hiding from all the world. She’s a bird. And she at least can be free. “Please just fly away,” he whispers against her ear. Holding open a window and letting her out.  

She does.

She flies away, and she never looks back.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, my name, of course, is Marquis de Lafayette,” the upperclassman announces with a flourish. Honey badger sprawled sleepily at his feet. Alex snorts.

“It’s just Lafayette,” Alex explains. Nudging John’s arm. John can’t find the humor in it.

Can’t remember the last time he’d seen Elle. Thinks that Lafayette’s ridiculous. His name’s foolish. He wants to sleep. Should probably...do that.

“And where’s your daemon?” Lafayette asks curiously. John just stares at him.

“Oh, it’s Elle!” Alex tells Lafayette for him. “She like to fly around outside.” Alex hasn’t noticed she’s been gone for a month.

Why would he?

John sips his drink.

He just wants everything to stop.

 

* * *

 

Bruises mar John’s skin. Blood drips from his lip. Alex has a boyfriend.

John wonders if Alex has ever struck the boyfriend’s daemon.

He decides the answer is ‘no’. Alex isn’t that much of an idiot. The boyfriend wouldn’t like that.

John sure didn’t. But Alex hadn’t cared about that. And John wishes Alex had.

 

* * *

 

The badger’s name is Marie-Joseph. He's male. John doesn't really care. Though others are confused by it. Ask Lafayette all the time. Lafayette just grins. Shrugs his shoulders. "He's perfect," Lafayette insists. And maybe he is. John doesn't know. Is starting to forget what shade of pink Elle has streaking on her head. He misses her so much...

Lafayette calls Marie-Joseph, Roch. Sounds like Roach. John’s not sure why. But Roch suits it better. And as Roch runs at Lafayette’s feet. Rarely talking, always watching, John stumbles in his stride. Tries to remember anything at all about what having his daemon close felt like. When Lafayette smiles like a demon. John almost crumbles. He's so tired. So tired. 

He wants to be taken apart. He wants to be destroyed. He wants the world to burn at his fingertips. “Leave me, _alone,_ ” he snarls at Lafayette. Wishing that the world stopped expecting so much from him. Wishing that he could just break and destroy. Self destruct in peace.  

“Ah yes,” Lafayette smiles back, friendly and pleasant and entirely mocking. Roch stepping closer. “So you can write in your blog, perhaps, about how sad you are. How you don’t have a daemon and—”

Elle appears like a nightmarish streak of vengeance. John's body _sings_ at her presence. _How long had she been there? Why hadn't he known?_ But there she is, talons at the ready. Screeching and aiming at Lafayette’s eyes. He ducks and twists out of the way. And Roch leaps forward. Presses John flat on his back, claws digging into John’s chest.

And it’s too much. Elle's presence, Roch's touch. John’s eyes fly back in his head. Feels the daemon above him. Skin against hot fur. Breath on his face and neck. He gasps. Feels Lafayette’s hands carefully take hold of Elle. Holding her like a precious thing.

Roch’s teeth bare. John’s not scared. He can feel it. Lafayette’s intentions. His wants. His needs. And Lafayette’s tracing Elle’s feathers. Can feel everything John feels. Knows what John wants.

Fangs slip into John’s throat. John’s vision goes white. Elle coos in Lafayette’s grasp. Her fighting gone. John's anger destroyed. 

_Oh God._

“Are you still afraid?” Lafayette asks him.

No.

Not anymore.

He’s owned.

And Lafayette smiles.

 

* * *

 

Lafayette punches him. Kicks him. Bites him. He pins John down. Tears at his skin. Leaves lingering marks along his flesh.

But he holds Elle like she’s something precious. He listens to her, and not John. When John cries, Elle tells him to continue. And Lafayette does. He does. It’s so much more than John could ever ask for.

Roch is there. Always. Soul moving into and over John. Biting. Clawing. Marking. Keeping John steady. Tearing him apart.

And when they’re done, Roch is in John’s arms. Soft. Warm. _His._ Their souls intertwining. Elle with Roch. Roch with Elle.

Lafayette groans when John returns the favor. Marks him up. Makes him pretty. John never touches Roch without permission. Hesitates only when Roch comes to him before Lafayette verbally gives the okay. “Roch is my soul,” Lafayette sighs. “If he wants you, he _wants_ you.”

John is wanted.

He doesn’t play pretend. He takes Roch in his hands, feels Lafayette’s soul. And he’s not afraid.

Their souls are each other’s centers. Balances. John closes his eyes.

He’s at peace.

 

* * *

 

Elle stays on John’s shoulder now. No more flying away. No more disappearing for months. She stays there. Tight. Close.

Only moving when Alex approaches. Moving to fly to Lafayette’s shoulder.

John can see the hurt flash across Alex’s eyes.

He tells himself he doesn’t care.

The lie _never_  works.

 

* * *

 

Alex shifts. Looks uncomfortable. Grace is whining on the floor. Elle and Roch are reuniting at Lafayette’s feet. John’s not done. Needs to say this. “All I did was ask if you were all right. All I fucking did was care, because you were fucking shaking and your pupils might as well have been gone. Know what you said to me? What you _did_ to me?"

Alex doesn’t respond. Looks terrified of the answer. John says it anyway. The words spit out. Alex’s sick phrase. Alex’s—Alex’s…

“You _hit_ her.”

Grace whines. Alex looks at Elle immediately. Face turning sickeningly white. Lafayette’s rigid. Roch paws wraps around Elle’s body. A dangerous predator turning gentle around its fragile prey. “You will never touch her again,” Roch threatens. Speaking to Alex directly for the first time in John’s understanding.

Alex’s eyes fill with tears.

John wishes he could feel something for Alex.

But he can’t. Lafayette takes Elle from Roch. Holds her like something precious. Something to be protected at all costs.

No one’s ever touched her with such tender care. It’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

 

* * *

 

Lafayette wraps his arms around John’s body. Elle and Roch curl around each other not far away. “Tell me what you think, _mon amour._ Are you mine? _”_

John’s not sure what he thinks. But he looks at Elle, and he knows the future doesn’t matter. Cockatoos, like turtles, can live up to a hundred years. They survive through everything. He’ll survive through this.

Lafayette’s heart taps out a beat against John’s back. He smiles. “Cur non?”  

Lafayette smiles back. Kisses the back of his head.

 _Besides,_ John reasons, _if things get bad again, Elle can fly away._ They’ve learned that John can endure any hit.

And she can too.

**Author's Note:**

> find or prompt me on tumblr at: falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com


End file.
